


Let's walk along the wire

by filiabelialis



Category: Mistworld Fictional TV Series Campaign, Planeshift Fictional TV Series Campaign
Genre: CRIME :D, Drug Use, F/M, Gen, Homelessness, Pining, Sex Work, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8509801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filiabelialis/pseuds/filiabelialis
Summary: And the last time she had, she doesn’t say, she ended up miles away from home, failing out of a fighters’ guild, and working as a clip joint bouncer for a horrible boss. And befriending a con man. 
And maybe falling a little bit in unrequited love with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/gifts).



> Many thanks to Aria for the beta.

He looks like a ghost; like the kind of hungry, flesh-eating child-spirit the temple kids used to tell stories about at night to scare the crap out of each other. He’s folded up against the crumbling stucco, back and head leaning against the wall, skinny arms wrapped around his knees, all pale skin and shock of dark hair. He looks younger than he usually does, probably because his clothes are too-large, comfortable rather than fitted to show off his body. 

 

He has a light of his own, but it’s a small enough protection that he’s also settled in a pool of streetlight. It puts him under the considering eyes of anyone who walks past; when men look down at him, a little longer than they would with most people making a bed on the pavement, he doesn’t open his eyes, or move, or register their presence in any visible way. Perhaps it’s an effort to stay disengaged from them; perhaps he’s just that tired. 

 

She goes home, unnoticed by him. She doesn’t feel like having a drink; her life is going just fine. She maybe feels like punching somebody. She sits on her bed, and looks at her small studio apartment, and mentally rearranges the furniture. She liked the desk, and picked it up mostly because it was free and too bulky for most people to want to carry it, but she doesn’t need it, or even use it much. It’s just something to pile her shit on instead of the floor. 

 

The next morning, she walks four doors down in the tenement, desk over her shoulder, to the family of six, whose oldest has just gone away to seek his fortune, and whose youngest, by natural ascension into hand-me-downs, has vacated a camp bed. The housewife there has lamented the lack of surfaces in her cramped kitchen for some time now, even after having one less mouth to feed. She’s so thrilled she piles a set of old blankets and a pillow into the bargain, and Rai hauls the lot back to her place. 

 

***

 

Rai doesn’t like to think about that night when she thinks about her history with Alokas. 

 

She loves remembering how she first met him. She got a psion stone -- Tymora’s heart -- for half-price, which meant about five months’ earnings back in her pocket. She would have been out the full price if Alokas hadn’t lifted the receipt off her and tried to use it, along with another of the stones discreetly lifted from the shelf, to “return” the item for gold. He should’ve waited until she was well out of the shop before he’d started the con, the cheeky fuck. 

 

(“The shopkeep was already giving me the stinkeye,” Alokas always says in his defense, “and I thought he was about to call the shop golem over, and then I would have _really_ been screwed. You shouldn’t have been browsing in prime pickpocketing territory, anyway, who _does_ that--”) 

 

Rai could’ve called him out, but instead she played along; faked having her own receipt until the transaction was completed, and successfully tailed Alokas away from the shop despite his attempts to evade her. They had, after a short debate, agreed to split the proceeds fifty-fifty, and he had invited her to lunch. 

 

The tavern was perfectly divey, the breakfast mead was good, and over some really excellent tapas they’d bonded enthusiastically about the art involved in selling cheat-the-house systems to compulsive gamblers. The art wasn’t in convincing the mark that the system was sound, which was what Rai got hung up on; she followed cards like astronomers and celestial diviners followed the stars. 

 

“Think about the other regulars you see at the tables, though,” Alokas had said, leaning in out of passion for his subject more than circumspection. Over the course of lunch Rai had counted several people wearing mercenary colors or heraldry, one pickpocket lifting her date’s purse while she ran a hand up his thigh, and one drow elf in dark glasses to whom Alokas had given a barely visible nod. It was the kind of place you could talk illegal shop in. “They’re in there driven by instinct more than calculation, and swept up in it, to say nothing of any other addictions they’re indulging at the time.” 

 

Rai had to concede the point. The decision to do so wasn’t even _entirely_ ego driven. 

 

“So the real art is just making them think you speak their language, like -- not just like another gambler, but like a kinsman speaks their language.” He started grinning, just a little. “You have to make them feel like you’re their long lost sister, by the time you’re hitting the middle of your speech, and then it doesn’t matter what total fucking nonsense you’re spitting.” 

 

They exchanged stone numbers while the bill was being brought out. “If you want a profitable hobby,” he said, “it’s nice to have a partner for certain jobs.” 

 

She’d had jobs she loved, but never a hobby that wasn’t a gear-eating money-suck. She’d resolved to sleep on it, but truthfully, when he called her out of the blue eleven days later, she hadn’t thought about it at all. But, bored and a gambler at heart, she’d jumped at the chance. 

 

***

 

The first con they ran was so terrifically simple it had its own name. Called “The Travelling Aasimar,” it involved Alokas cutting a purse, and Rai--cast as the titular aasimar, or otherwise altruistic and helpful soul -- apprehending him just long enough to retrieve the purse before he would escape in the ensuing scuffle. The grateful mark, if they had been chosen well, would then reward Rai for her good deed, usually financially. 

 

Rai wondered aloud why they didn’t just take the purse. Alokas insisted that this was part of the skill involved in choosing the mark -- the right kind of mark would give a reward even greater than what they would have stood to lose with the purse, and might be inclined to do further favors. Also, the money would be acquired legally, since it was freely given. 

 

The real trick of the thing was that it required good timing, since Rai had to be the one to intervene before any security golem or other bystander, and it take place somewhere with a reasonable route of escape for Alokas after the purse was retrieved. It was safest to pull on highways and the less-guarded parts of town -- where the well-to-do were cautious about walking alone. No reward without some risk, apparently. 

 

Choosing the mark took longer than the con itself, as it happened. They sat together in the square nearest to Cayton’s teleportation hub, sharing some kind of cinnamon-heavy, syrup-soaked cake. The casual bystander couldn’t have distinguished them from any of the other couples enjoying the spring sun together, smiling and chatting with heads conspiratorily close. 

 

If she was honest, their reconnaissance was straying a bit into directionless people-watching. 

 

“That guy has no idea that his dog keeps trying to lick stuff off his plate every time he turns to flirt with the waitress. It’s so distracting.” 

 

“Which guy? Gnome with the blink dog?” 

 

“No, other side, human guy with the reddish dog. You see that elf lady with the big hair, he’s turning and talking -- ahaha, the dog totally just grabbed something. Is still grabbing -- he’s just obliviously talking to her. This is hilarious.” 

 

“There’s no way she doesn’t see that. She’s just letting it happen. She’s my new hero.” 

 

“She’s got a good poker face, we should hire her -- for jobs like the one we are supposed to be doing right now.” 

 

“Shit, right, sorry, I can focus.” 

 

“It’s okay, I’m right there with you.” 

 

“...gods, it’s hard to focus when there are people like mister bronze lamé vest over there.” 

 

“I think he might actually be a Bronze dragon. I dunno why. The heavy jewelry, maybe?” 

 

“Whoops. Is it racist to say that his outfit is weird enough I would totally believe that?” 

 

“Probably racist, yeah.” Rai takes another forkful of cake, and hears herself saying her next thought aloud easily. “My half-sister was dragonborn, and she was always really sensitive about stuff like that.” 

 

Alokas quirks an understanding smile at her. “Sounds like that was loads of fun.” 

 

“Yeah, oodles. But to be fair, she was the single dragonborn in the middle of a bunch of humanoids. She left home to ‘find her people’ or whatever as soon as she could, so I guess that wasn’t easy for her, either.” 

 

“Hm, yeah, that makes sense. So given the racial demographic you just described -- is it presumptive of me to guess you were a small town kid?” 

 

“It is, actually,” says Rai, but she isn’t offended. “I’m from Inym, it’s just that I was talking about the temple where I grew up. It was sort of like its own village within the city.” 

 

Alokas looks at her for a moment, like he’s trying not to blurt out the same exclamations of surprise she’s heard a hundred times before. “I never knew humans really went in for that sort of temple-as-hearth setup,” he says eventually. “I thought that was just a halfling thing. Granted, I haven’t been to temple very much.” 

 

It isn’t a reaction she’s heard before. She’s pleased with him for staying interesting. “It was a temple of Olidammara,” she volunteers, “so there probably was some halfling cultural contribution. And virtually no unifying traditions between branches of the church, so.” 

 

“That makes -- oh. Hey. Potential mark at your four o’ clock.” 

 

Rai half-turns, pretending to dig in the bag under her chair. The guy has the full plate and Peloric heraldry of a paladin, a coin pouch visibly tucked into his belt, and short legs -- probably not a proficient sprinter. Rai straightens up, and places a couple coppers on the table for the food. 

 

“Looks like he’s heading up Crescent Street. Seems like a good place for a lift.” 

 

“Fewer golems and a lot of exits, yeah. Ready to earn your rent in fifteen minutes?” 

 

“Definitely.” 

 

It goes off so well on the first try that Rai not only gets half of what the paladin was carrying, but a full ten gold besides once they reach the building that houses his order -- her conversation with Alokas had inspired her to bond with the man over a shared religious upbringing. She also gets a free hat and bag of apples from a couple of impressed vendors who witnessed the scuffle, courtesy of Alokas’ dramatics. Rai thinks this partnership is the smoothest running machine she’s built all month. 

 

They celebrate by getting riotously drunk. Alokas apparently has a wide knowledge of clubs in the area, and several Astral cocktails later they are both flailing happily on a dance floor in a crowd of people only too prepared to thoroughly ruin their expensive clothes with equally expensive vices. 

 

Rai is feeling a gleeful defiance unique to gatecrashing a place she would never ordinarily be admitted to. Alokas is clearly having a fantastic time, smiling hugely, tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-slicked face. He is comfortable here, she can tell, though not because he belongs in upscale establishments any more than she does. He is simply accustomed to taking whatever he can get away with snatching up from life, and accepting it as the deserved reward for his success in doing so. It’s a lifestyle she could get used to, Rai decides. 

 

*** 

 

“I can’t do that,” Rai says. “I’m sorry, but we have to think of a different way to put pressure on them.” 

 

Alokas stops his explanation, measures her with a long look. There’s no judgement visible in his face; it’s the look he gets when he is focused on drawing every potential scrap of useful information from the situation in front of him. Eventually, he says, calmly, “You realize that shutting off the water for just one home, or the heat temporarily, would be a much more difficult endeavor than shutting off the lights?” His eyes are still on her face, unblinking. She feels a little lost for a moment, though this isn’t a point she’s going to budge on. 

 

“I’m just not comfortable with threatening lives like that -- when they’ve never done anything to me.” 

 

Alokas absorbs this. Rai wonders, in the second before he answers, whether the idea he’s having trouble with is her hesitation about killing. 

 

Then he asks, “You really think the shadows are that serious a threat?” 

 

_Obviously_ , Rai wants to say, but feels stupid. She isn’t stupid, she reminds herself, even if most other people she meets are more blase about the things living in the dark. “In my experience, yes, they are,” she says, meeting his eyes steadily. 

 

“Okay then.” He breaks the long stare. “We’ll hold off on that one, until I can figure some other easily reversible sabotage point.” He’s not angry, as far as she can tell; he rattles off several other cons he’d been considering, and the tension eases out of the conversation again. 

 

Rai never actually tells him the whole story about Nyka. She’s pretty sure he puts it together after that, though. It’s not hard to guess, between her _entirely rational_ fear of shadows, and her offhanded mention that one of her siblings was long dead. 

 

(“You can be a real bastard,” she’d said of one of his nastier tricks, and just to be annoyingly pedantic, Alokas had retorted with “My parents were married, actually.”) 

 

Upon comparing notes, they learned they were both the middle children of three, though Alokas had two brothers, no sisters. Both alive, along with his parents, last he saw them -- but that had been years ago. She wondered why the long separation, and hadn’t been sure how to ask, and Alokas had breezed past the awkwardness by saying that they were probably still living in Mileth, and had Rai ever been to Mileth? Had some okay artifice-work, if one was into that kind of thing, though kind of dreary otherwise, if one was going to pay the cost of travel it would probably be preferable to travel somewhere with more to do -- and Rai had let the subject go, and accepted that this might be a permanent state of affairs. Alokas will clearly never be entirely comfortable going back to Mileth, even if she did take an interest in checking out the local artificery, or seeing the place that Alokas grew up. 

 

And hey, he is respecting her privacy, and her own arbitrary boundaries. Least she could do is return the favor. 

 

*** 

 

She can definitely remember the first time he crashed at her place -- he’d stoned her asking if she liked pipeweed, because he’d just gotten a brand new bag and it was more fun to smoke with friends -- but she can’t pinpoint exactly when it became a regular thing. 

 

He brings pipeweed a lot, especially at first -- a long time after, longer than she likes to admit to herself, she recognizes that for the excuse it is. He underestimates how much she genuinely enjoys his company, even for all the groggy, hungover mornings she finds him asleep on her couch. She does appreciate the steady supply of intoxicants he shares with her, though. 

 

They play this game where they both get high enough to slump down on Rai’s floor, propped against each other, smoke hanging low enough in the air that Rai can reach up and brush her fingertips through it, and come up with new cons. None they intend to actually pull, obviously -- the point is to foray so far into the absurd that they’re both laughing too hard to continue. 

 

Sometimes this strays into the absurd things they’ve both lived through. Contrary to popular belief, Alokas _has_ ingested Abyssal Fellvine seeds and lived to tell the tale, though it apparently involved a week-long regimen of the worst purgatives sadistic alchemists could ever invent. Rai feels gratified to be able to render him rolling with laughter from her retelling of That Time She Went Commando Under Her Armor On A Dare. 

 

Rai even manages to talk about misadventures in the Fighter’s Guild with only a little bit of bitterness -- maybe it’s because Alokas is the first person to hear that she failed out of her training without looking either knowing or disappointed. “Guild training can be a real bitch,” he agrees with commiseration, and at her curious look, explains, “Some of the guilds recruited a lot in my neighborhood -- lots of kids there eager to trade work for vocational training, too poor to buy an apprenticeship with a master.” 

 

This would explain the familiarity with illegal work, Rai thinks. The guilds that recruited on such an arrangement were usually the ones with less savory or safe work to do -- thieves, assassins, fighters for the pits or gladiatorial arenas, or the city guard. They tended to look for potential trainees among people with little other recourse for supporting themselves. 

 

During their shared stories and idle conversations, the name Tebrys comes up often, though little is actually said of him. She knows, from how often Alokas stays the night, and the way that he says _Tebrys is expecting me_ , that he’s sleeping with him--she knows that Tebrys is traditionally a drowish name, and from that and the way that Alokas seems to anticipate Underground gossip before it makes its way through the club she works for, she knows that even if Tebrys is not at least part drow himself, he probably works with them closely. 

 

She tells herself this isn’t the reason she regards this nebulous fuck-buddy of Alokas’ with suspicion -- or at least, not the only reason. She can’t put her finger on it. It revolves around the way Alokas says he’s _expected_ , and how quickly he will respond to Tebrys’ texts or summons. It all seems very proprietary, on Tebrys’ part. 

 

Whatever. Alokas keeps showing up on her doorstep with a smile and drugs or drink or food, so he’s clearly got enough of a handle on the situation to stay safe. She hopes. A healing potion -- which come pretty cheap for those with their fingers in the Underground market -- can take care of a lot of bruises. And truly, Alokas keeps his life so tightly compartmentalized that she’s not sure she’d see the red flags if they were there. 

 

The gnawing of that particular doubt plays a part in her following him that night. He’s so upbeat when he comes to her door he’s more rictus than grin, voice a shade louder than usual. It’s been a day, he says. They demolish nearly two bottles of wine between them, and thankfully, over the course of this, Alokas’ laughter turns quieter and more genuine. He’s slurring a bit when he mentions he should head out for the night, but his feet are steady. Rai’s impressed -- she’s feeling the wine, and she has several inches and more than a few pounds on Alokas. He can take care of himself, she thinks, as he waves at her from the street, shrinking in the distance as a small white light moving through the varicolored glow of the city. 

 

A thought scratches at the inside of her head. He didn’t say he was going to Tebrys’ place. So what, so he’s going home -- they probably had a fight, if his tense mood is any indication. 

 

She has no idea what’s bothering her. She doesn’t know where his home is, doesn’t know how far he has to travel, drunk and alone in the dark. She doesn’t know where Tebrys lives either, so it’s not like it’s that different from usual. 

 

It’s funny: she’s never been to his house, as often as he comes to hers. _It’s too far_ , he always says when she suggests it after their nights out. They’ve been all over town together, visited every dive in their collective and not insignificant knowledge, and it’s always _too far_. It’s a subtle enough brushoff that she hasn’t concerned herself before now -- can’t even justify the concern now, honestly. Alokas is a very private person. 

 

She’s going to blame this on being drunk, she decides, and sets out after him.

 

***

 

She figures that a direct, casual approach is the best way to ask him. 

 

“So I have an idea I wanna talk to you about,” she says, handing him the spicy smelling meat-wrap in its greasy paper sleeve. 

 

He bites it, and makes an inquisitive noise that could be an “Oh?” 

 

“My landlord is hiking the rent,” she lies. “I’ve been making ends meet with my studio, but you’ve been there -- I can’t really downgrade, size-wise. And I can’t think of that many people I could stand living with,” she meets his eyes, to see that he knows where this is going, “besides maybe you.” 

 

He looks interested. She continues, “I think we could probably upgrade to a one bedroom, if we split it between the two of us.” 

 

Alokas swallows. “What’s the rent like on a one bedroom?” 

 

“Three gold each per month, if we split down the middle.” 

 

“Not bad. Though if you wanna keep your studio and your solitary lifestyle, you could just work more jobs with me.” 

 

“I like having downtime, thanks,” says Rai, glad the truth was adequate to the situation. 

 

Alokas’ face is unreadable for a second. “When did you want to move?” he asks. 

 

“Could do it end of the month, if you wanted. I’m not on a lease.” 

 

He doesn’t react for another second, and Rai thinks she’s blown it, that he thinks she pities him. But his face twists suddenly into a grin, and whatever he might think of her motives, whatever else he might feel, his delight is at least mostly sincere. 

 

“Why the hells not,” he says, and makes a mock toast to her with the meat wrap. “Let’s do this.” 

 

*** 

 

She tells him she got the camp bed curb shopping. Neither of them talk about the fact that it’s only her furniture they’re moving. 

 

They set up a table with two armchairs at it in the kitchen, a workbench for Rai, a small open area for either of them to stretch and exercise. They share the bedroom, and work out a system for bringing home guests. Rai prefers doing dishes. Alokas insists that Rai can’t see her own clutter, and as such it’s only logical that he keeps the surfaces clean (except Rai’s workbench, which is a Safe Zone for any and all projects in progress). They get to work, in their own separate ways, charming the new neighbors. The domesticity of it feels oddly natural. 

 

Which is why Rai thinks nothing of asking Alokas to bring her dinner on her bouncer shift about a week in. When he walks in the door he stops dead, eyes fixed on the stage, oblivious to her attempts to wave him over. She glances at the performers -- Telleth is on her aerial silks, but the routine isn’t a particularly risque one. 

 

“I’m gonna Telleth that her ass is keeping me from my dinner,” she says, taking the box from him. 

 

Alokas opens his mouth to protest, and decides to quip at the last second. “She does have an objectively nice ass.” He turns to the stage, watching an intricate drop with wide eyes. “Where’d she learn to do that?” 

 

“Fuck knows. She’s done it long enough she teaches her own classes for the Bard School kids in the mornings.” 

 

He perks up further, if that’s possible. “Do you think she’d offer classes to anyone? What are her rates?” 

 

“Uh,” Rai says, trying to make heads or tails of this, “You can ask her when she gets off shift in a couple hours, but dude, if you want to ask her out you probably don’t have to take a class.” 

 

He looks genuinely confused for just one second. “That’s not what I want.” 

 

“Sure, buddy,” smiles Rai, biting into a beer-battered piece of purple extraplanar tuber. Honestly, Telleth gets so many propositions after her shifts that it’s become a relief to Rai when one of them comes from someone who takes no for an answer. Makes her job easier. 

 

She probably shouldn’t be surprised to wake up to the sound of a stone message in the late morning. 

 

It’s a picture from Telleth, with the caption _oh my god he’s actually adorable._ Rai needs a moment to process what she’s seeing. 

 

It’s Alokas, looking concerned and gripping a green swathe of silk like his life depends on it. His head is turned to listen to a child of about eight standing next to him -- one of Telleth’s Bard School kids, Rai deduces. She looks over to Alokas’ camp bed. It’s empty. 

 

This is...okay, this is just unreal. Alokas is not -- Rai wouldn’t think of him as a ‘kid person.’ _If he starts saying things unfit for young ears feel free to boot him_ , she stonesends back. 

 

A few minutes later, another picture appears. Alokas looks like he’s gained a couple feet off the ground, and is grinning fit to burst. 

 

“Okay. Fuck it, he can be cute,” Rai says to herself.

 

_Pride before the fall_ , is the caption on the next one. Rai suspects Alokas is at least as relieved as she is that there is a thick mat laid under the silk rig, because he is face down in it. 

 

_I am so sad that there is no reason for me to take a morning shift_ , responds Rai, _because I desperately want to watch small children laugh at him._

 

Because Telleth is a gift to sentient beings everywhere, the next message contains a short video. 

 

It doesn’t surprise her that Alokas is abominable at aerial silks -- his lanky body is as frantic and flailing here as ever. What surprises Rai is that he will fail so willingly in front of other people -- though, on second thought, maybe not so strange. He doesn’t _like_ to fail in front of other people, that much is true, but if it’s inevitable to do so, there’s no way he won’t do it with a smile. 

 

He slams into the floor, sits up, and raises his arms victoriously. The kids laugh and clap for him. Seriously, the way he is with kids comes at her from out of nowhere. Far from being sarcastic or impatient, he doesn’t even look _uncomfortable_. He jokes with them, he cheers them; he’s attentive even through the most incoherent of explanations. 

 

She wants to ask him why. There’s no better way to get him to be self-conscious about it, though, or to ensure this is the last video of the kind she will ever see. 

 

_Please keep sending me these_ , she texts to Telleth. 

 

_Seemed rude not to share ;)_ Telleth texts back. Rai sends her a selfie of Rai’s middle finger, her smiling face behind it. 

 

Alokas attends as many classes as he can reasonably afford, even picking up some shifts at the club waiting tables or washing dishes to augment his earnings. Rai jokes that she’s turning him to respectable work. 

 

“She says, to the exotic dancer in training,” he snarks. 

 

“Yeah, you’re super sexy with that sore-muscle salve all over you.” 

 

“Why Rai, I never knew you had a fetish for the scent of owlbear piss.” 

 

“I think the fact that you know what owlbear piss smells like is more damning than anything I could say to you.” 

 

“The depths of my depravity could shock you.” When Rai gives a skeptical snort, Alokas starts chasing her with the pot of salve. 

 

She’s glad he’s got a routine to keep him busy -- whether or not he keeps up the cons, he seems to have a measure of stability living with her. His grace on the silks improves quickly, and she can see how much pride it gives him, getting results for something he put a lot of effort into. His visits to Tebrys peter off significantly, which she can’t help but take as a good sign. He has a home with her now; what he gives of himself can be on his terms. 

 

***

 

“You wanna do an actual legitimate job for an actual employer? And by legitimate job, I mean do you want to get paid by a disgruntled tradesperson to scare the shit out of a philandering spouse? It’ll be like a raid, but I’ll get naked first.” 

 

Rai is about to protest that her job _is_ legitimate, thanks, but breaks off to wonder how much of this is an innuendo. “What part of these proceedings do you need me for, exactly?” 

 

“You need to be _my_ spouse.” 

 

“That was a short engagement,” Rai says, deadpan. 

 

Alokas waves a dismissive hand. “The marriage is already falling apart, don’t worry. You could kick down a door, right?” 

 

Rai just smirks and raises an eyebrow. 

 

“Great,” says Alokas. “Here’s how it’s going to go--” 

 

*** 

 

Rai legitimately cannot tell if Alokas is tipsy or just really good at faking it. He’s not hanging sloppily off the mark’s arm -- though the human man is young and fairly strong looking, and could probably carry petite Alokas if he wanted to -- just bumping against his shoulder, walking a little too close, weaving only a touch toward the man as he looks up into his face. They’re chatting and laughing about twenty yards ahead of Rai, and Alokas is doing a good job keeping the mark’s attention. 

 

Well enough that though they step suddenly to the side of the street, Rai doesn’t need to ready a defense or spring into pursuit; the man is dragging Alokas to the wall, holding him there by his shoulders, and kissing him, long and hard. 

 

Alokas opens up to it, mouth soft and shining dark in his pale face; he slides his hands up the man’s chest, setting their hips flush together. This is part of the plan. He pulls back only a couple moments after hands start to wander, gasping “Let’s get a room,” and taking the young man’s hand with a breathless laugh. Singleminded -- at least, on the mark’s part -- they make very good time to an inn, and tailing them is easy. 

 

Rai settles down in the dimness on the flight of open-air stairs leading to the room’s door, and presses her ear to it. She can hear a bit of giggling and bumping inside, though nothing distinct -- she thinks the mark offers Alokas a drink, before she hears series of quick footsteps, and the creak of two bodies hitting a mattress in close succession. Mouths meet slowly, wetly. The shining glimpse of Alokas’ mouth opening to the man’s seeking tongue flashes into her mind, and dwells there several seconds too long. 

 

It doesn’t mean anything, she tells herself, though she’s thinking of Alokas’ perfectly executed suspension earlier in the day, hanging from one leg in a wide split, body and arms all elegant arcs, head thrown back. Alokas is an objectively gorgeous person, even if he’s not her type. You’d have to be blind not to notice. 

 

She focuses on the sounds through the door. The harsh breathing, muted exclamations, and after a while, rhythmic movement all go on longer than Rai expects, and Rai finds her chest tightening, eyes itching. She reminds herself to blink. She thinks of Alokas’ smile, before a job, after an ungainly fall, two kinds of uncertainty that he doesn’t show anywhere else. 

 

Alokas says, suddenly loud, “Ah, gods, gods please.” 

 

That's the signal. She stands, stretches, and pounds on the door as loudly as she possibly can with her fist. “Oh _fuck_ ,” she hears Alokas say, followed by a flurry of bedclothes. 

 

“I know you’re in there!” She hears her voice coming rough and loud, an unrestrained shout. “You think you’re the first to try this with him?” What the hells is she doing. 

 

“Out the window, go, go go!” Alokas is saying. 

 

She gets hold of the role again, and goes for the gusto. “You think you’ll be the first I wreck for touching what’s mine, you limp-dicked son of a--”

 

“I have _no pants on!_ ” 

 

“I’ll throw them down, just go or she _will kill you_.” 

 

Rai starts kicking the door, not quite in the right place to kick it in -- just enough to give the fellow some incentive. When she hears the all-clear signal -- Alokas shouting “run!” to the street below -- she gives the lock her best, and the door gives out. Alokas is standing in the middle of the floor, wearing a bedsheet and a smug grin, holding a coin purse. 

 

“I think it’s just money and a couple minor magical tidbits, but he’s certainly not going to be coming back for any of it,” he says, and tosses it to her before going for his own scattered clothing. “You scared _me_ for a second there, good job -- you all right?” 

 

She’s a bit out of breath, and only now realizing how much angry heat is simmering down into calm. “I just make kicking a door in _look_ easy,” she pants, grinning wide as she’s able. 

 

“You should get your blood moving more,” he smirks back, which, given his state of undress, is just shameless. He knows it, too. 

 

“Who says I don’t? Just because I’m not an exhibitionist about it--” The banter isn’t even forced, she’s surprised to find. She just swings right back into the way they always are, even if everything for her is changed. The jealousy, abruptly as it came, is already fading. 

 

It probably helps that they’re robbing the guy Alokas was sleeping with, if she’s honest. 

 

There’s a thing to hold onto, she tells herself, while they continue to ransack the room for anything else valuable. A fucked-up thing to hold onto, but something nonetheless: the people Alokas fucks are people he’s conning for something. Or if not conning -- bargaining with. It’s transactional. Whether he’s on the silks or in someone’s bed, his body is something he’s selling. 

 

She thinks that maybe that shouldn’t be such a comforting fact to her, if she really cares about him -- it’s not the safest job. Then again, neither is being a hired hitter. And really, she thinks, falling into step behind him as they walk back to their apartment, both a bit richer if not both entirely satisfied: how many artists like Alokas could lay claim to their own personal guard? 

 

*** 

 

She actually feels neither drawn to nor repelled by the fact that Alokas is a near-compulsive liar. This seems strange to her in light of how she feels about him, but honestly, she’s probably making the best choice she could by just accepting him as he is. 

 

He’s certainly not letting go of it anytime soon -- it’s like it takes some kind of constitutional struggle on his part to tell the truth with no embroidery. It’s not just when pressed, either; he’s given a dozen random names and professions to various waitstaff and shopkeeps around town. He thinks of them with no hesitation, and any time they are questioned, generates a story seemingly on the spot, most of them even reasonably believable. He will conduct entire mundane conversations in a persona he’s chosen on a whim, if his conversational partner shows engagement beyond the most basic pleasantries. Rai’s seen him invent book titles, musicians, arcane theories, cities, and species out of thin air, just to keep the chat flowing. 

 

And because of this, it’s impossible to tell exactly which parts of his stories are true. Rai’s been keeping a mental tally of how many cities and towns he talks about like he’s been there, noting a sight worth seeing or a bar or restaurant or inn that was especially good, or recounting some misadventure he had while there, or recalling some person who works at the corner of Such-and-Such Avenue and Bland-Name Street who he started chatting up for a job and ended up sleeping with. The details sound real, but the details of all his blatant lies also sound real, and he shares them all in the same casual or affectedly emotional way. 

 

These are the things that Rai knows for certain: given his age and income, it is most likely that he has never been to a majority of the places he talks about. However, some of the names and locations she’s managed to cross reference or look up -- because she is just this obsessed, apparently, gods -- match what he says. Not all of them, of course, but she doesn’t know whether that’s down to the preponderance of his lies or the luck of his guesses when fabricating. Same problem with a lot of the odd worldly trivia he shares -- she doesn’t know whether the false facts are lies or mistakes, like everyone makes with common myths. 

 

She knows, from one truly harrowing encounter with a mark who turned out to be a priest of St. Cuthbert or some other archaic deity of order, that Alokas doesn’t know his exact age. She knows, from that same encounter, that Alokas can lie his way out of admitting criminal actions in a truth circle by telling truths out of order to recontextualize them. 

 

She knows he speaks Common, Halfling, and a different dialect of Rogue’s Cant than she grew up with in the temple. That last is not unusual -- Rogue’s Cant is usually modified to protect the information shared by the in-group rather than made for universal communication. Rai and Alokas develop their own version after that. He knows what every tool in a lock picking kit is for, and many elements of makeup used for disguise. It points, in sum, to links with the Underground, probably older than his relationship with Tebrys, who he apparently met just a month or two before meeting Rai. 

 

She knows that cutting onions makes him cry, but he loves spicy food. He enjoys the same vintage music enjoyed by all the old folks she’s known. His favorite color is white. 

 

She’s pretty sure she knows, after watching so closely for so long, when his smiles are real. 

 

*** 

 

Though it’s a way of accessing a large portion of a mark’s bank account, Alokas says it’s not a blackmail. It doesn’t even involve a postal drop or the hassle of repeated money transfers, just Alokas’ sex appeal (and possibly a minor glamour), a tourist mark, and a credit pin reader. Barring a reader, they need a shopping list and for Rai to work quickly.

 

“It’s basically a burglary,” Alokas explains, “but combined with identity theft, and if things go awry, I might get naked.” 

 

“Why do all of your plans involve you getting naked? Not a judgement, just a sincere question.” 

 

“I believe in using my assets. And I actually got this idea from that job we did on N’kelas’ husband.” 

 

“So explain the credit pin reader part.” 

 

“Well,” he draws the syllable out, “I heard you can jigger them to make a convincing enough duplicate of the credit info to use for a short while. In your opinion--?” 

 

Rai considers it. “Maybe possible, but I’m not sure I have the arcane knowledge for it. I’ll do a little research and let you know.” 

 

“Great. Even if we can duplicate the pin we won’t have access for long before the mark finds out someone has been making purchases with their account and has everything reset, so really it’s just a matter of doing all our shopping in a couple days, if you can read the pin, or an hour or so, if not.” 

 

“Good motivation. How do we get the pin?” 

 

“I lift it, make a discreet handoff to you, and you read it or use it while I’m distracting the mark.” 

 

“Is this the you-getting-naked part?” 

 

“Like I said, hopefully I won’t even have to. I’m thinking the longer I can keep them distracted at the tavern the more time you’ll have for everything you have to do -- this is why I was thinking a tourist mark, it’s not hard to pick them up in the taverns attached to inns, if they have a room there, and the room there is what makes this an especially fun job.” 

 

Rai grins. “Why am I not surprised you looked at a bit of tech-assisted theft and thought ‘how can I make this more complicated?’” 

 

“Whine all you want, this way we get all material wealth they might be carrying and also a pretty neat alibi,” rejoins Alokas, grinning back. “Oh yeah, now you’re interested. Okay, so this is why I’d _like_ the bigger window for using the pin; an hour or two is a very short time for you to do all the digital shopping your heart could desire, and break into the mark’s room, _and_ be back on the scene on cue and in character.” 

 

She wishes she wasn’t attracted to him when he acts this smug and deliberately obfuscating. It is objectively really obnoxious. 

 

“Fine,” she says, “I’ll bite. In character as who?” 

 

*** 

 

“Do you think you could provide me with a list of the items lost?” she asks the young woman, a well-dressed elf who is currently twisting a lock of long, honey-colored hair in her fingers in consternation. Rai digs into a belt pouch next to her (false) City Guard’s badge and produces a small notepad and pencil, trying to look as bored as though she does this every day. 

 

“Oh, oh gods, I haven’t even looked around much yet, I was--” she glances at Alokas at this point, telling Rai that it had been Alokas’ suggestion and not her own idea. “--I was worried about going in when the room had been broken into. Benton went in first to make sure it was safe.” She smiles with a mixture of awe and gratitude at Alokas, who, in character for the consummate gentleman he is playing this evening, smiles supportively back. 

 

“Free of intruders and traps, from what I could tell,” he supplies helpfully. At least Rai’s barely suppressed urge to roll her eyes at his smarminess augments her role. Alokas always plays his upper crust folks a little incompetent. Besides being funny, it has the benefit of ensuring that people don’t generally trust him with the sort of authority nobility usually commands, which helps his cover. 

 

“I’m not surprised,” Rai says to him, “Cases like these are usually just the work of petty thieves -- break in, grab what they can carry, get out. Enough strangers staying in a good-sized inn like this that they can blend in. If there were any magical items of note”--there weren’t, when Rai ransacked the place, just a mid-grade healing wand and some lightly enchanted jewelry--”we can put out a notice for them, but if not...I’ll be honest with you, it’s basically impossible to track down your possessions at this point.” The woman looks crestfallen, and Alokas gives her hand a brief squeeze. Rai flips her notebook shut and stows it. “If you have insurance for any of it, I’d see what you can do in the way of reimbursement, and talk to the innkeeper about a new room.” 

 

“Thank you, Officer,” mutters the woman, nodding. 

 

“Yes, thanks for coming out here so quickly,” says Alokas. As Rai walks down the hall, she hears him ask the girl if she feels safe staying here alone. She heads downstairs and out the back door to find somewhere to change. 

 

A text from Alokas appears on her stone as she pulls her cloak on in the bathroom of a pub down the street: _out and clear. usual spot?_

 

Rai feels her traitorous stomach unclench knowing Alokas will not be comforting any recently robbed elf girls tonight. _See you in 20_ she texts back. She leaves the pub with a spring in her step, for reasons she can justify to herself sitting neatly alongside those she can’t; after all, in addition to successfully robbing a room and impersonating a city guard, she’d gotten the pin reader to work. 

 

***

 

Their jaws drop in unison when the the account balance loads onto the viewing facet of her stone. 

 

Rai recovers first. “I’m upgrading my axes. And Tymora.” 

 

“I’m buying my own silks,” says Alokas, “And a portable music player.” 

 

“We could get a bigger apartment.” 

 

“Or have dinner at the most expensive place in the city.” At her dubious look, Alokas interjects, “It sounds stupid, sure, but I promise it’s worth trying once. Getting the rich people treatment is awesome.” 

 

“And of course, we’d have to get an appropriate wardrobe for such an upscale venue.” 

 

“Of course,” Alokas grins. “And you could fix that one bit on your armor!” 

 

“Or we could go on a vacation,” Rai says, her mind running wild on new possibilities. “I’ve always wanted to see Ellesmere.” 

 

“Hells, we could _move_ to Ellesmere.” 

 

What? 

 

“It’s not that much money,” Rai hedges, trying to rein the conversation back into the bounds of reality. “It’s not like we can just quit our day jobs and live off our spoils.” 

 

“I’m not saying we should. But the whole life of crime is pretty profitable, yeah?” 

 

“Not so reliable, though.” 

 

“In fairness, neither is your boss.” 

 

Rai concedes the point. She can’t remember the last time her paycheck has been on time. 

 

“Besides,” says Alokas, “Whether it’s our legal or our illegal careers, you and I have two jobs that show up in every city. Besides prohibitively expensive travel costs, is there a reason we should be stuck in this one?” 

 

There isn’t, really. Neither of them has family here, or particularly close friends. 

 

“I feel like we just moved into this apartment,” Rai says, collecting her thoughts slowly. “I just… it feels really sudden to just pick up my entire life and start a new one from scratch.” And the last time she had, she doesn’t say, she ended up miles away from home, failing out of a fighters’ guild, and working as a clip joint bouncer for a horrible boss. And befriending a con man. 

 

And maybe falling a little bit in unrequited love with him. 

 

She meets Alokas’ eyes again, and sees, to her surprise, that he doesn’t look disappointed. There’s compassion in his face. 

 

“That’s okay,” he says, softly. “That’s really understandable.” His face brightens with glee, as though something has just occurred to him. “Alternatively, we could always just blow it on fancy booze and drugs.” 

 

Rai snorts. “It was really just a matter of time, wasn’t it?” 

 

***

 

Alokas tries Arborea mushrooms. Rai declines, worrying what the shadows at the edge of a room at night will start to look like if she is already seeing things. And besides, they should only do it one at a time, so they can look after each other. 

 

Alokas doesn’t get paranoid -- he quickly loses his ability to support himself, sagging onto Rai’s shoulder, then flopping into her lap, giggling. He’s warm and not very heavy; Rai shifts her legs so she can sit under him more comfortably. 

 

“Good shit?” she asks him. 

 

“I think this is the best I’ve ever felt in my whole life,” he says, pupils wide and dark. “I feel like I could fly.” 

 

“I’m pretty sure you still can’t fly.” 

 

“Party pooper. I think your hair is leaching all the kindness out of your head, like roots. That’s why it’s so shiny,” he says, eyes wandering up to her hairline. “It’s glowing so many colors, like ebony wood and oil and the night sky are having an orgy up there.” 

 

“Hoo boy,” she says. 

 

She keeps him hydrated. He is so overjoyed by the taste of fruit juice that she starts offering him tidbits to eat, just to hear the ecstatic noises he makes. She’s gonna give him hell about it later, she tells herself, but still feels a little like a creep, and stupidly thrilled. 

 

She sits with him again, when she’s tired of that. He’s much less talkative now, head back on her lap, eyes fixed on the hairs of her bare legs. She’s very aware, again, of the weight of his head on the crux of her thighs. She notices how warm his breath is, a rhythmic little puff of damp against her skin, and it gives her goosebumps. Alokas gives such a comical little gasp at the sight of her hairs raising that she starts laughing, which gets him laughing, and then things feel blessedly normal again. 

 

Normalcy, as it often does when Alokas opens his mouth, dies a swift death about twenty minutes later. “I wonder if they cut off my head, what I would come back as,” he says suddenly. 

 

Rai stares at him, so he clarifies, helpfully, “Well, since I’m immortal and all. Like would a whole new body come from the head, would I become smaller, or would I just be a talking head?” 

 

“You’re wandering some weird fucking places, huh,” Rai says, bemused, but unconcerned. Apparently contemplations of personal and cosmic grandeur are pretty typical while on ‘shrooms. 

 

“I am reflecting,” Alokas says, putting on an authoritative air, “on heretofore unanswered questions of our times about feats of magic previously deemed impossible. By doing impossible things. Like that kid, from the story, who tries to do three impossible things a day -- Aless? _Aless in the Land of Miracles_.” He natters on, voice distant and dreamy. “I bet Aless could pop back from the dead like a spring trap if they hung her.” 

 

“Okay,” says Rai, because she has to draw the line somewhere, “I think we need to scale back on the freaky shit just a little.” 

 

“Sorry.” He sounds like he means it. “Maybe I should go to sleep? Then I won’t think so loudly.” 

 

“Yeah, maybe. Here, take the water so it’s next to your bed when you wake up.” 

 

There’s no question of them sharing a bed tonight, in Rai’s mind. She’s tortured herself enough this evening. He winds himself in the nest of blankets on the camp bed, and she dims down the lights. 

 

“No seriously though,” he says to her when she’s under her own sheets. “I was a girl once. I was a little girl and I grew up into a little lady and then I was huge and immortal.” 

 

She has no clue what to say to this, or how much of it is drug-fueled delusion. Is he coming out to her? She knows it’s possible to magically change one’s sex, and expensive to do, and though it’s been available for several centuries, it’s not common enough that everyone necessarily feels comfortable with it. She remembers him breezily telling her that he hasn’t seen his family in years. 

 

It’s probably not something he likes to mention when his inhibitions are up, if so. This is the first time he’s given any hint of that during the months they’ve known each other. 

 

She decides to go nonchalant. “Well, if you’re immortal, it certainly explains how you survive your more spectacular fuckups on the silks.” 

 

“I think you should cut off all your hair and be nice to me again,” he says, and falls asleep. 

 

*** 

 

They don’t end up blowing it all on drugs. Rai upgrades her axes and armor first -- and purchases a thorn whip that is just too tempting to walk away from -- and orders several new and interesting gadgets to incorporate into Tymora. Alokas gets his music player, silks, and rig to hang them. They lay down money on several healing potions, and after some pestering, Alokas sees a cleric about the shoulder joint that’s been bothering him for some time (overexertion, as it turns out -- probably from the silks, though Alokas just smirks and waggles his eyebrows at Rai when she suggests it). They actually go for that fancy dinner. Rai can now say she has, with Alokas’ help, drunk a bottle of wine that cost more than their monthly rent. The wine was good, but the power trip was even better. 

 

They get away with a startling amount of theft before the credit pin is cut off. It was inevitable, and it doesn’t alarm them. They ordered all their goods to be delivered to a bolt-hole that Alokas was willing to burn for this job, and had long since picked everything up. There’s nothing to trace it back to them. 

 

Still, that’s the end of the money. Rai finds herself inordinately disappointed, more than even would be warranted by losing access to a large supply of free wealth. She goes to work each night, and the place feels drab, despite the fact that Alokas is performing there now -- twisting elegantly in front of her in sheets of bright silk and not much else, executing graceful maneuvers while engaging in flirtatious banter with the customers, the other performers, even Rai herself, and shining with the joy of his new position. Telleth and the other performers had also learned that Rai and Alokas lived together, and had been treating them like a couple ever since. It didn’t seem to bother Alokas, who just cracked a lewd joke about the real reason he’d learned how to climb. Rai secretly loved the assumption. There was a momentary deferential glance that the other performers gave her whenever they completed a particularly risque routine with Alokas, as though they were asking her pardon. It never failed to bring heat into her skin. It should all be enough. More than enough. 

 

“I dunno,” she says over dishes, when Alokas asks if she’s feeling alright. “It’s like everything has this ‘been there, done that’ feeling.” 

 

“Hard to go back to real life, huh?” 

 

“Yeah, I guess so.” It isn’t quite right, though. It’s not like she particularly wants adventure and the finer things all the time. Though maybe a change of pace… 

 

She hadn’t stopped thinking about Alokas’ suggestion that they move to Ellesmere, though she hates to admit it to herself. She feels hypocritical complaining about it, especially to Alokas, when she had rejected it in the first place. It wasn’t like she had been anywhere near deciding when they had the money on hand; she is just uselessly kicking herself for not walking through that door now that it’s shut. 

 

“I mean, if you wanted to be in funds again,” Alokas suggests, “We could always pull another big con.” 

 

Rai smiles. “I don’t think scores that big come along all that often.” 

 

“How big do you need it? Do you have a particular expensive wish in mind?” 

 

Rai must look a little caught out, because Alokas smiles knowingly. “Something you wish you’d bought before?” 

 

“It just feels really stupid to regret it now when I didn’t take the chance before,” she starts. 

 

“Well, maybe the opportunity isn’t lost forever,” Alokas says with a shrug. He’s being carefully unassuming about what she’s working up to, she notices. Like he wants to hear exactly what it is she hopes for, and doesn’t want to put his own hopes in front of that. 

 

“I’m reconsidering your suggestion that we move to another city,” she spits out, and bulls onward in the face of Alokas’ spreading grin, “But reestablishing ourselves in any kind of comfortable way -- especially somewhere expensive, like Ellesmere -- in a place where we have no connections is going to take a fuckton of coin.” 

 

The grin, if anything, gets more self-satisfied. “What if I told you that I not only had a plan that would pull in a lot of coin, but also is the perfect kind to pull when you’re planning to quit your job anyway?” 

 

Rai puts down the dishes, dries her hands, and sits down at the table. “Tell me more.” 

 

They open a bottle of wine, and he outlines it for her. Not only does it get them a sizable chunk of money, if they do it right, it involves blackmailing and terrorizing their soon-to-be-former boss. And in classic Alokas style, it fuses a couple small-score cons into something considerably more profitable and exponentially more ridiculous, all at the price of only a couple drastically burned social bridges. 

 

“And if that’s not enough, we’re getting to the end of our lease, we could run the Moving Day con at the same time for coin on the side--” Alokas says, ramping up.

 

“We are not doing that to the landlady! She’s so sweet! Besides, it’ll never work, everyone knows she owns this building.” 

 

“Point. Okay, well, we’re gonna have to work a few smaller jobs before we leave, but the big one’s low maintenance, so that’ll be doable.” 

 

“Yeah, speaking of,” says Rai. “Who’s playing the Underground mob boss? It can’t be me or you.” 

 

“Oh, one of Tebrys’ buddies owes me a favor, he’ll work for a substantially reduced cut.” 

 

She sips her wine. “How’s Tebrys going to like the idea of you leaving town?” 

 

Alokas waves a dismissive hand. “Neither of us expected to be in each other’s lives forever. Hells, if he was in on the plan he’d probably take up the blackmail after we left and then poach all the club’s best performers. And pay them on time.” 

 

So that’s that. An emotion she has no name for kindles in her chest to know that he’s following exactly the same path she is. He’s throwing away his ties -- few and dubious though they are -- just as she’s cutting hers. In a matter of a couple months, it will be just Rai, Alokas, two temporary travel visas, a hoard of ill-gotten coin, and the wide, strange world around them. Rai’s oil-stained mess of gears overflowing the desk; Alokas’ rumpled clothes on the floor around the camp bed; this table, with the two mismatched, overstuffed, comfortable armchairs they found for themselves and the branch of candles in the center bathing the warm apartment in a yellow glow and reflecting in the dark wine staining the mug between her hands; all of that will be gone, or carried along. 

 

But if anyone can make another home just as good, it is they two together, Rai is sure. 

 

She raises her mug in a toast. “To a new life.” 

 

He meets it with his own. “May it be even more fucking fantastic than the last.”


End file.
